DOOMed
by Q3
Summary: The next chapter in the defense of Earth against alien forces. Now, Michael Abalone must finish off the aliens and destroy the Gates on Phobos and Deimos.(Cursing,Violence)
1. The Message

Note: This story doesn't contain any of the original Doom plot, but a brand new one, if it's not obvious. The new hero is named Michael Abalone.  
  
Chapter One: The Message  
  
I woke up to that damned siren again. Every morning brought a new threat to HQ.  
  
After recovering from the loudest sound possible at 3 in the morning, I jumped out of bed and grabbed my duck gun. I cracked it, loaded up, and got on my combat gear.  
  
When I, Michael Joseph Abalone stepped out of the dim light of my room, I turned to my left. My good buddy Jason was lying face-down in a pool of blood, barely alive. Jason managed to turn over a look at me.  
  
"..Mike?" he said.  
  
"Yeah, man. What's going on?" I replied.  
  
"We..(cough) couldn't hold them this…time.'  
  
"How'd they get in?"  
  
"Gun Sergeant Brian was out… gettin' a smoke. When he came back to his  
  
post, they were(hack) already here."  
  
I watched him cough up some blood, then asked him if he would make it.  
  
"No, man. I… take my shit. Its no use for me anymore. Here, take this key… Put me out of my misery."  
  
I looked at his face. It was twisted in pain and completely covered in blood. I wouldn't let him die like this…like a dog. I had no choice but what my marine training would suggest.  
  
"Jason…I'll miss you, man. I'll get those aliens back, and I won't stop 'till smoke 'em out of the whole friggin' universe." I said.  
  
"Bye…Mike."  
  
I took one last look, turned away, and did the deed. Tears immediately clogged my vision, but I wouldn't let myself break down so easily. I was a marine! A man's man!  
  
I got up from my knees and headed south out of the barracks. To my horror, the courtyard was covered in bodies, human and otherwise. Strange looking brown things with spikes sticking out of every possible spot were feeding on the corpses of my fallen comrades.  
  
This sight made me sick and angry at the same time. With my friend's dying words still fresh in my mind, I raised my trusty shotgun.  
  
"C'mon! You want the main course, or are you gonna fill up on appetizers?" I shouted.  
  
One of those things looked at me and grinned the most evil grin I had ever seen in my life. Its red eyes glowed with hunger as its leathery lips parted to show its massive fangs. I was terrified, but I had fought these before and knew what standing still can cause.  
  
I lept to the left just as one of the things tossed a flaming ball of phlegm at me. I rolled and came up firing, taking down the two next to my brown-skinned friend. I ran and counted their numbers as I shot my second round and reloaded. One, five, ten… I counted about fifteen, and subtracted the five I had killed while I was jogging around the courtyard's perimeter.  
  
"ROOOOOAAARRGGGHHHH" one yelled at me.  
  
I yelled back with both barrels of my boomstick.  
  
That sucker went down the way God intended. I reloaded and noticed my playmates with fiery snot-balls running for all they were worth. My killing spree had put quite a dent in their numbers and I soon found out only eight of the original fifteen were left. After I recovered from a nasty claw swipe one of them managed to do, I got moving.  
  
My instincts told me to go to the radio room and call up HQ. My brains told me to go to the armory. I decided the latter and went to see what prizes were left.  
  
When I got in, my personal candy shop was nearly empty. All that was in sight were two pistols, some ammo belts, and a fairly stocked box of grenades. I found a backpack, but decided against carrying too many grenades. If one round even brushed it, say 'bye bye!'. I grabbed four and turned to leave.  
  
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…." Said the large pink thing.  
  
It was then and there that I wanted to grab a grenade and huck it into its wide-open mouth. When the pinky almost bit my arm off when I reached for one, I picked my next best alternative.  
  
"RETREAT!!!!!!!!!!!" I shouted to no one in particular.  
  
I ran, and ran, and ran, until I ended up in the back storeroom. Behind me, that pinky was thumping and grunting for all it was worth. I quickly scoured the room for supplies, but found only two little stimulus- packages. The larger ones were ransacked and the needles were broken. I loaded up as fast and as silently as possible(read: not very.). Lucky for me, the lights were broken, and just as I stood up, the pinky lurched into the doorway.  
  
Its huge form was silhouetted against the bright lights behind it. It sniffed the air and I began to think.  
  
What if this thing can smell out my hiding spot?  
  
Why am I running?  
  
I have a shotgun, right?  
  
Dammit, humans haven't spent millions of years crawling to the  
  
top of the food chain for nothing.  
  
When I reached this revelation, I was no longer afraid. If Flynn Taggart had fought thousands of these things almost single-handedly, then so could I.  
  
I rose and unslung my shotgun. In one swift motion I swung it into the face of my pink demon-thing and smiled at it.  
  
"Rooargh?" it seemed to question the long, black, metal tube in its mouth.  
  
I happily pulled the trigger.  
  
Blood, blood everywhere, but not a drop to drink. I moved out of my little labyrinth and into the courtyard. The flies had already taken over the place. I went to the radio room and prayed to the lord that it still worked.  
  
"HQ, this is Michael Abalone! Serial number 335-812-389! Do you copy?"  
  
I repeated the message for about five minutes before receiving a reply.  
  
"…Mike?"  
  
"Yes, sir!"  
  
"What happened, Corporal?"  
  
I told him what Jason said to me, and what had happened so far in my adventure.  
  
"hmm. Corporal, you have to get out of there! We need you up on Deimos."  
  
"How in hell do you propose that I accomplish that? This goddamned base is overrun with the enemy!"  
  
"Corporal, our radar shows exactly that, but we have problems of our own. You have to find a vehicle and report here. I have a mission for you, Michael."  
  
This was how I learned about the situation on Deimos. If you don't already know, Deimos is where the great Sergeant Flynn Taggart started his battle against a huge alien empire in the midst of an intergalactic chess game in which Earth was 'only a strategic move.' The aliens learned the hard way not to mess with us.  
  
"…Yes, sir. I'll do my best to accomplish this."  
  
"Michael, find a helicopter. Radar shows you've got one about 80 klicks away. Good luck, corporal."  
  
I shut off the radio and checked my supplies. 50 shotgun shells, 200 bullet rounds, two Colt .45 pistols, four grenades, two stim-packs, and a backpack. Not a lot to survive on, but I had to go. Besides, I heard some very unfriendly growls nearby in the mess halls. The odds weren't exactly in my favor. 


	2. Death Halls

Chapter Two: Death Halls  
  
After making my transmission to the CO, I got out of the radio room and examined my surroundings. The courtyard, littered with corpses, stank of decaying flesh. I looked at the doors to the mess halls. Unable to see much, I headed closer to get a better look. There were blood stains in claw-like patterns on the door itself, and I knew that the only way in -or out- was through there(the architects evidently did not forsee an alien invasion.) My memory told me of the airbase some kilometers away. Then I went in.  
  
The door made an astoundingly large slam and squeak when I pushed it in. As if the courtyard wasn't enough, the stench of blood and gore was overpowering. Soon enough, the culprit came into view. Ahh, my old friend pinky, except this one was just plain FAT. Fatty looked to be consuming what was left of PFC Christine Alonzo. Damn.  
  
I was just getting plain tired of seeing squad buddies' corpses being used as food for these friggin' aliens. I lost it, then and there. Grabbing my two Colts, I sneaked off into the darkness on my right. Speaking of which, the dark seemed to be a lot more friendly than a wide-open mess hall overrun with the enemy.  
  
I slid around a pillar in the alcove I was in and crouched to size up the room and its contents. Aside from fatty, there were those damned spiny things, eight of `em, and the back wall was defiled with a massive visage of... Satan. I looked at it in complete and utter horror, its horns covered in what passed for entrails and blood, its teeth and fangs glistening with astoundingly bright paint, its eyes seeming to pierce into the depths of my very soul. I shuddered and resumed my reconnaissance of the room.  
  
I moved out from behind the pillar and snuck into the kitchen, via its two swinging doors (covered with gray matter, no less). The room was cold, icy cold. Every aspect of the room seemed to be tainted by evil. The odor was disgusting, as if human flesh were being roasted on a barbeque. Lo and behold, the stove was burning in the adjacent room. I went through the metal door into the cooking room, and I saw that that stove contained no ordinary meat.  
  
That clinched it, and I lost whatever was left of my dinner from yesterday. I retched in the corner of the room for a good five minutes, hoping I wouldn't be heard by the beasts in the main hall. Finally, I wiped my mouth and glanced at my watch. It read, 5:30 AM. Whoops. I mean 5030 hours. I guess my civilian side came through when I saw the stove.  
  
I ran from the cooking room into the pantry, searching for a way to get around the hall. It didn't help that my memory of the mess halls didn't extend past brawls and really bad minestrone soup. The pantry was empty, looking as ransacked as the armory's back room was. I shrugged my shoulders and went back to the main hall.  
  
Uh oh. My enemies were nowhere to be seen. I looked left, right, up, down, everywhere! I was as cautious as possible when I stepped into the middle of the room.  
  
Big mistake.  
  
The spinies, in groups of 2 each, leaped out from behind the four pillars. The pink thing came out from behind one of the alcoves' walls. My reaction was, luckily, better than average.  
  
I jumped forward, firing my Colts in separate directions. Two went down. I landed on the ground as the pinky charged me. I fired two shots at the spinies behind him, but they got back up. I was distracted for a split second, and the pinky was nearly on top of me. I drew my shotgun just in time, but the pinky stopped.  
  
Apparently, one of the dumbass spinies launched a flaming snot wad and it hit Mr. Pinky in the back. In a rage, he turned around, and stomped back torwads the dim wit. Bye, bye, spiny. That sucker was devoured before he lifted a paw. Its buddy tried in vain to take him down, but he also met a truly terrible end. I took time aiming my shotgun at its face when it turned around, and POW! My troubles with fatty were over. I still had to contend with the remaining four spinies, though. Plop went my morale.  
  
I dove behind a pillar as all four of them simultaneously launched fireballs at me. I retaliated with a nice grenade. BOOOM!!!! One survived the blast, sans legs.  
  
The legless spiny was bleeding horribly at the midsection, but of course, you would too if you lost your abdomen. I put my shotgun away and took great pleasure in putting a .45 against his skull. It swiped at my legs, evidently not slowed by its massive blood loss. I took out my other .45 and happily fired both, point blank, into the spiny's brain.  
  
After cleaning myself thoroughly, I walked to the large, metal door at the back of the room. It was lined with red LED lights, which made me feel good about having the key that Jason gave me.  
  
"PLEASE WAVE CARD IN FRONT OF LASER EMISSION PORT TO CONTINUE." Said the door.  
  
This was unbelievable. I never thought a damned door would ever order me to do anything. I almost laughed out loud, but instead I just did what I was told.  
  
Swish! The door slid up with a satisfying wind. I noticed my pretty red keycard had melted in my hands, and I used my incredible marine instincts to deduce that it was therefore unusable. As I stepped into the warehouse which led to the outer walls (and eventually, outside to the road), I shivered in nervousness at what other horrors awaited me inside. No turning back now. 


	3. The Warehouse

Chapter Three: The Warehouse  
  
My first steps into the warehouse were not very comforting. About one kilometer inside, the large metal door slid down again, and I was locked inside. I had used the key, and I had to stick it out or die while whimpering in a corner.  
  
My experiences with the warehouse before this second invasion were pretty mundane. I had worked as a supervisor to the supply officers who kept the records for stocks of food and munitions. My mind was attempting to bring me a dim memory of how the layout was planned out. It soon came to me that the building was planned so that each room had two entrances and led in a gigantic circle, and there was a small elevator in the center that led to the basement. If I remembered right, the exit was up a small incline in the lower level.  
  
As I got my bearings, I heard some very unfriendly noises ahead in the dark. The lights in the corridor I was standing in went out with a crackle. I immediately pressed against the left wall and felt for a door. As I creeped along the wall, my feet encountered a slick liquid that seemed to suck at my combat boots. Each step got harder and harder to make as the liquid ate through my footwear. I found the door, and quickly jumped through.  
  
The room was filled with barrels oozing with a phosphorous green sludge. Nearby were some humans, armed with single-shot rifles. I called out to them.  
  
"Hey! You! We have a BIG situation here!"  
  
One of the people looked at me. Except this was no ordinary human. Where his right eye should have been, there was a clump of maggots. Where his left forehead was supposed to be, a gaping hole revealed the rotting brains. The chest cavity was cut, deeply, and it displayed his entrails and organs for all to see. The others that surrounded him were of similar description. I suddenly knew that I could easily be the only living person in this entire base. I gripped my handy duck-gun and hefted it to eye- level.  
  
Too late, I decided. One of the "zombies" opened fire, and hit my right shoulder.  
  
I recoiled, but found my strength and shot back. I blew his head apart with a single shot!  
  
I looked for cover as his companions loaded up their rifles. I saw a stack of wooden crates with the UAC logo emblazoned across the sides. I made for it as the group of zombies fired again. I was hit in the back, but being a strong guy, I made it behind the crates.  
  
This wasn't good. Five minutes in, my boots were burning through, I had bullets in my shoulder and back, and I was pinned down under heavy fire. I hesitated before grabbing for one of my General Stimulus packages. I opened it up and found some adhesive bandages and medical tape, which I used to fix my shoulder and the part of my back where the bullet went in. If I didn't hurry and pull those things out, I would have a nasty infection pretty soon. I undid the bandages and wielded the tweezers. I found some alcohol, which I used to dumb the pain while I reached inside of my body for those god damned bullets. I winced as I stuck the tweezers inside my shoulder and pulled out the little oblong thing. My back was the hard part, and I won't sicken you with the details.  
  
I re-covered my wounds and injected some antibiotics into my arm, then took the time to look for another option as my playmates reloaded. Hmm… Those barrels were the only other thing in the room besides the crates, zombies, and moi. I laid my shotgun down and grabbed a .45. I took great care in aiming, so as not to waste ammo. I watched the zombies raise their rifles again, and prayed to God my plan would work. I pulled the trigger.  
  
KA-BLAMMMMMOOO!!! A terrific explosion rocked the room. I watched the zombies fly apart, limbs trailing off in every direction. I was picked up by the seismic wave and lost my pistol as I flew through the air. God answered my prayer, all right, but I think he overdid it.  
  
I came to a long time afterwards, and I had totally forgotten my Colt. I found it lying in a pool of mingled gore and disgusting organs. I wiped it on the nearby shirt of a dead marine. I stood up, and found my way to the next room.  
  
Apparently, somebody didn't defend the base well, or I would never I come face-to-face with what I did now. It was a 8-foot-tall, goat-legged, demon-faced monster who couldn't have possibly come from this universe. I looked at it and remembered Flynn's nickname for them… hell princes. They did look like a regal demon. It had red flesh and I was just too terrified of it to enter the room any farther. I severely doubted my chances of hurting it with any weapon I carried then. I did the next best thing. I ran like hell to the center room.  
  
I would have been scared to death even if it didn't come stomping and roaring after me. I felt sweat dripping down my eyebrows as I was getting closer to the elevator. I half-expected it to take me to hell. Then the hell prince stopped and started shooting electrical balls of energy at me. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up as one passed by me, dangerously close to my ear. I didn't just run inside the elevator, I dived into it. I slammed the "down" button and hoped the door would close before that thing managed a lucky shot or blew up the elevator with its demonic weaponry.  
  
Luck was on my side, and it started going down just as the hell prince ran after me again. All it could do was a brisk walk, though. I checked my supplies again. About 145 bullets left, 37 shotgun shell, three grenades, a backpack, and one stim-pack left. When the lift ground to a halt at the lower level, I shuddered. The door noisily opened, and I stepped into the pitch black corridor ahead. I turned, placed a grenade in the lift, and sent it back up. As I walked back up the corridor, I heard a satisfying explosion and several monsters screaming. I now was nearing the exit to the highway, but the labyrinth-like basement still lay ahead. 


	4. The Basement

Chapter Four: The Basement  
  
I looked back at the wreckage of the old elevator. Green blood slowly dripped from above and I heard unhuman groans. My little trick had caused some nice damage to the hell prince. I turned and walked up the dark corridor. My light-amp goggles were low on batteries, and in the worst possible place. I remember when I first came to the camp, Point Omega, and my drill sergeant explained the point of having an entrance through the maze-like basement.  
  
"Privates, you damn well better listen! We built this nice compound with good-ol' American handiwork, and we made it this way for a reason! You dimwitted excuses for human beings better get it in your head now, and I mean NOW! The entrance is like this for STRAT-EH-GEE! Sumthin' your tiny brains will never understand! Think, soldiers, would you want some enemy takin' the easy way, through a damned front gate? Do you think we should make it easy for 'em? HELL NO!"  
  
Ahh, Drill Sergeant Dunningham. Always had fond memories. I tossed my goggles, which were dead. Now I was the equivalent of a duck in a open field full of hunters, but shorn of grass. I loaded my shotgun again, for adrenaline purposes only, and continued forging ahead.  
  
Groping blindly through a pitch-black maze is no fun when you're not the only thing there. I swear I heard more growling and groaning in the hallways ahead. I stepped into an alcove that, I hoped, nobody could accidentally find. I had to think my way through the maze.  
  
'Hey, Mike!' screamed the voice in my head.  
  
'Wasn't the floor softest by the main juncture?'  
  
I thought to myself, yeah, that's how I remember it.  
  
'And wasn't the corridor by the exit made of steel?'  
  
Yeah! Now I had a plan. Except for one thing. Some stupid puke started firing at me in my thinking corner.  
  
It was a zombie and two spinies. Just great. I fired at them, taking the zombiee in the leg, but it stepped forward again and continued firing like I tapped it with a pencil.  
  
The spinies launched their trademark fireballs, and one nearly smacked me in the chest. I can't believe my luck. I fired my second barrel at the zombie's head, which popped like a watermelon. One spiny rushed me while I was reloading and I had no choice but to smack it with the butt of my gun. I heard a nice, loud crack as its head flew backwards and I slammed two rounds home into the duck gun. Point blank! Too easy, I thought, but when my gun jammed I lost my smirk. My barbarian tactic had bent the shotgun, and didn't even scratch the damned monster! I tossed it aside sadly and grabbed for my pistols.  
  
I aimed the twin .45s at the spiny's head and pulled both triggers. Two loud clicks. I didn't load up! I was wasting time, and I had forgotten the other spiny. He wound up and let one fly as I ducked and replaced my clips. I stood up, put four rounds in the one next to me, then shot at the other guy. I ran for cover, hoping to acquire a new armament on the way. Turning to look behind me, I saw the two spinies coming after me. This damn scene was too familiar: me running for my life with demons close behind. I turned, letting my bravado stop them in their tracks. I raised the pistols and continued to fire nonstop, reloading when necessary, and not stopping until I was the only living thing in the hallway. Their bodies twitched on the floor and I stopped to finish them off.  
  
I walked down the hallway, following the light source coming from some room a long distance away. I went to the door, after walking for a good twenty minutes, and went inside. The room was empty, except for a medipack and a nice present for Yours Truly.  
  
It was a gigantic minigun, one like the demonstration tapes had showed a while back. I hefted it, and was overjoyed to know it was 10mm, the same rounds as my Colts. I happily loaded up my remaining bullets and stalked off with a new outlook on life.  
  
I followed the faint scent of sour lemons to a steep flight of stairs, which led… down. 


	5. Brave New World

Chapter Five: Brave New World  
  
I headed down the staircase, letting my weapon lead me. I didn't think that anyone would want to mess with me, but then again, it didn't seem like any thinking beings were left at Point Omega. The dim light continued getting brighter until I realized this was not the way the base was originally designed. I looked around, seeing fragments of metal all over the place, and what used to be the exit's door popped up against a wall. No. Impossible. I looked to my left. The steel incline, leading outside, was barricaded by what looked like a foot-thick, gigantic metal door. No way of opening it from inside, as I saw no obvious lever, wheel, handle, Laser emission port, or keyhole. Damn.  
  
This truly stumped me. I hefted my minigun and soldiered on past the door, heading off toward that sour-lemon smell. It got stronger as I walked on and got closer to the secondary barracks in the far east end of the basement. Eventually the odor was so powerful my eyes began to water and I found it hard to breathe. I started running, hoping to find an area that was free of the hellish smell. No luck. I found my way to the barracks door, and there, the smell was at its strongest. One, two, three, and I kicked it in, wanting to face whatever made this damned smell.  
  
Uh oh.  
  
Zombies, wall to wall. Zombies, every possible crevice was crammed with zombies. Up on a large, newly erected pedestal in the corner, stood a hell-prince, who obviously didn't notice me, and the roof was higher than I ever saw it, higher than the original warehouse's roof! I crouched low and placed my back against the wall next to the door, peeking inside. There were actually four pedestals, and each one held a monster of some type. One had a spiny on it, another had a pinky, and the other had something extremely disturbing: a six-foot tall, lanky, grotesque-looking demon with a head that had two beady black eyes within. It had no mouth visible, and its chest had a hole through which no organs were seen. Then something really bad happened: he looked at me. Then, the spiny and the pinky looked at me. Finally, the hell prince, on the tallest pedestal, slowly turned his head to face me. He spoke in an ominous voice.  
  
"we're ba-ack!"  
  
All hell broke loose. The zombies turned to me and roared triumphantly, which I decided to put a stop to immediately. I opened fire with my minigun, tearing holes all over their bodies. I watched them go down, and soon, I was left with four really pissed off enemies in the corners. Their platforms began lowering and the pinky's was the first to hit my level. I fired at him, but he somehow managed to get to me and swipe my chest, cutting my body armor and scraping some skin off. I placed the muzzle between his eyes, and fired again. As I killed the pinky, the spiny's platform hit the floor. He launched fire at me as he smiled and laughed with those hideous brown, leathery lips. I was hit in the leg.  
  
The pain was overwhelming, and I had enough strength to kill him as he prepared a finishing blow. The hell prince was angered, and started shooting his green energy balls at me. I grabbed a grenade and lobbed it toward him, but it detonated too quickly, so I had to throw another one. Good timing on my part caused him to fall backwards onto the spiny's spikes, impaling him and stopping his actions. The other monster's pedestal hit the ground, but he moved no muscle. Instead, I heard his voice in my head.  
  
"Joinnnn usssss...." It hissed.  
  
I stepped back on my good leg and looked in horror as he seemed to ignite in flames.  
  
"I willll let yoouu liivee iff yoouu joiiinnnn usssss...."  
  
This was too much. I watched it grow in size as its flames grew higher and higher.  
  
"Now yoouu shall dieee!!"  
  
I fired at it as it elongated and moved the flames into its hands. Then it focused on me and sent a huge amount of 10,000 degree fire at me. I barely got out of the way as I watched it bring a "dead" zombie back to life, then another, and another. I had to kill this bastard, right now, if I wanted a chance to live. I fired again, aiming at his head. My rounds severed his head from his neck, and I finished off the zombies he revived. After I was the only bi-ped left in the room, I checked my ammo. Zero. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Bupkiss. Nothing. All I had were shells for the missing shotgun, which I missed dearly, and a stim-pack. I sadly tossed the minigun away and scoured the room.  
  
The zombies had quite a stock, and I found a new shotgun, and TONS of ammo to boot. I also located some webbing and bandoleers for carrying stuff. I latched up my minigun again, loaded my pistols and placed them in side holsters, filled my backpack with the virtual treasure trove of medical equipment in the nearby infirmary, and tended to my wounds.  
  
My new armaments and ludicrously large amount of ammunition gave me shot in the arm towards escape. I jogged off in search of an alternate exit outside. I found my way to an old-fashioned wooden door, which I blasted. Another set of stairs, leading upwards to a gigantic platform. It glowed red and white. I searched the area for another way, then decided I had to go through it. But there was one thing I had to be sure of before I stepped into the unkown.  
  
I raced back to the large metal door, and checked it over one last time. Definitely impossible to open up. Then I came back to the gigantic platform. Damn, I did not want to do this! As I paced back and forth around the room, I triggered a motion-detector. I saw a wall slide away, and DAYLIGHT shone through. I was overjoyed as I ran outside, but I soon lost my smile. There were corpses everywhere, the front fence was ruined, and the road was severely damaged. I had no choice other than the teleporter, so I walked out to the road and began my trek to the airbase. 


	6. Highway to Hell

Chapter Six: Highway to Hell  
  
I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the sun's bright shine. Nothing but dirt, power lines, and empty roads for miles in every direction. I soon began to get that feeling where you could possibly be the last person left alive on the entire planet. I checked my watch: 8050. Great, I'd been up for five hours already and I was beginning to feel twinges of exhaustion creeping up on me. Damn I needed some sleep, but hell, I was a marine.  
  
I walked on, lugging over 250 pounds (combined) of the crap that I needed to survive. I was still feeling sick from the ghastly sights of the mess hall and inner courtyards of Point Omega, and making camp in a wide-open area was an invitation for death. Again, the odds were against me. I tugged my helmet down, and walked further down the road.  
  
Just as I had finished up a 5-mile trek, I heard tank treads rumbling behind me.  
  
Oh no, I thought.  
  
And me without an anti-tank rifle!  
  
As I turned around, a gigantic Abrams tank loomed just down the road. It was mounted with TWO freakin' Vulcan cannons, a large-bore turret, and a load of nasties inside. No way these suckers could be zombies, it takes brains to operate heavy machinery. A view slit slid open, and I saw I was wrong in that prediction. Those weren't human eyes. A feral growl erupted from the bowels of the tank, magnified by the metal walls inside, and boomed at me as if from a 40,000 watt amplifier. The turret rotated and leveled at my chest. Being a marine had taught me that I shouldn't trust any large, tube-like objects pointing at my body. Thank you, Drill Sergeant Dunningham!  
  
I was halfway through my sideways dive when the concussion of the rocket blast hurled me even farther. I flailed wildly, trying to fly. I landed with a heavy `oof!' as my shotgun rolled away and I bounced for about two meters. I got up off of my knees, and looked for some way to beat those canned zombies. I hefted my minigun and fired through the view slits.  
  
Most of my shots missed by a country klick, but I managed to wrestle the gun closer and closer to the target. Eventually, screams told me I was getting at something. When blood started spraying out through the openings, I assumed I had eliminated the threat. Then a zombie opened the hatch by the dual-Vulcan cannons. Uh oh.  
  
I was surprised to see these dumbass zombies gaining the upper hand against me, a friggin' US Marine! I scouted out cover as quickly as possible and jumped behind a rock as he located the triggers and started belching hundreds of rounds in my direction. Every time I braved a peek, bullets sprayed the broad face of the rock. My shotgun was lying about twenty feet away, and the minigun was unusable in this situation. I had to eradicate the zombie using something that would give me a fighting chance. I started running, and felt bullets slamming into my combat armor and going through my left hand. I was in extreme pain as I literally flung myself at my shotgun. I hit the ground, grabbed it as I rolled by, and rolled onto my knees, firing both barrels at the same time, hoping for a good shot. The zombie's head popped open like a ripe melon.  
  
I marveled at my great luck, wondering if somebody was giving me the edge. Then I noticed the 6 or 7 bullets embedded in my left hand. If I didn't pull `em out soon, I would die of blood poisoning and never even get close to finding out what the Hell was going on here. I sat, back against the rock, and pulled out a medikit. I injected myself with antibiotics and pulled each bullet out, wincing in pain like a little schoolgirl. I bandaged myself and wondered if I'd be able to use that hand anytime soon. I thought of ways to fly a helicopter with one hand.  
  
Finished with a great battle and not necessarily worse for wear, I stepped out from behind the rock and continued down the road. A glance at my watch told me it was already 1300 hours, 7:00 PM for you civilians. A long day was behind me, and I was groggy from so many gun fights and wounds. When I decided I needed some good shelter, fast, I started jogging. When I realized I needed food, I started running. When I thought of a night in front of the tv with a can of Coca-Cola, I started flying on my feet, not caring for the trouble it would cause to my lungs. I was certain I'd pass out when I saw a small shack off the main highway, probably an old gas station.  
  
I closed in on it, hoping for a bunch of dead corpses instead of flame-spewing spinies, or a pinky willing to fill up my tank for an arm and a leg, literally. Thank God, the place was long deserted, with stocks of snacks, working toilet facilities, and a staff room where I could lock the doors and nap on the couch.  
  
I replenished myself, wolfing down vast quantities of Snickers bars, potato chips, and various types of nachos and salsa, then washed it al down with about 2 liters of water(coca-cola would've just given me cramps.) I relieved myself in the bad-smelling area that passed for a bathroom, and took a hearty nap. I could have done without the dreams.  
  
They were weird. They all seemed to have a similar theme, though, with zombies, hell-princes, and whatnot all bathing in rivers of blood, feces, and urine with humans being killed or put to slavery. Around these scenes were walls of fire, and instead of the friendly blue skies we all know, dark, crimson red skies, like the color of communion wine, the color of the blood of freshly killed comrades. With these dreams came an unbearable odor, human flesh, burning like in the mess hall's kitchen, sour lemons, worse than the four-pillar room I had fought my way through. Each dream ended with a massive visage of Satan, Beelzebub laughing as I watched my fellow species being tormented. I would wake up in a cold sweat, not shaking the horrible feeling I received from them.  
  
I couldn't get any sleep for a while, so I left my little sanctuary. I had a peculiar feeling that I was being watched the whole time there, but I was healthy, having eaten, crapped, and slept. I pulled my shotgun and followed the power lines to where I hoped the air base was. From the looks of it, I wasn't far off. I estimated a three- or four-day journey, so I did what I remembered from Lawrence of Arabia.  
  
I slept during the day, and moved in the night, trying to escape the sour lemon smell which seemed to be following me. It was like it was getting closer each night.  
  
I was almost to my objective, when something truly disgusting happened across my way. 


	7. The Fatman Cometh

Chapter Seven: The Fatman Cometh  
  
Luckily for me, it was dark when I encountered this thing. I didn't need light-amp goggles to tell it was hideous, and the odor was atrocious. Like locker room sweat and urine mixed in a pool with spoiled milk. Its arms ended in massive metal tubes which I knew weren't Pringles cans. There were three on each arm, actually, now that I looked harder. Long coiled wires connected it to… to the fatty's back. I quickly sprinted behind an electric pole to examine it further. I slid the light-amp goggles over my eyes silently to see even more of the gruesome thing. Its eyes were tiny black beads, which I doubted could see beyond the huge expanse of flesh that was its stomach. Its ears were two holes in the sides of its head, obviously unable to hear much if at all.  
  
I did not like the looks of this thing, and my arsenal seemed quite useless when facing this pitiful excuse for a monster. It still scared the crap out of me, though. I grabbed my minigun and loaded up the magazines, then got ready to rock and roll. The fatty's steps grew more and more ominous as I hurriedly placed my goggles in a pocket and peeked around the pole.  
  
All hell broke loose.  
  
The thing saw me, grinned, the lifted its gigantic metal arms. I definitely didn't want to know what would come flying out of the tubes, and I didn't expect it to shower me with daisies either. I leapt to the right and fired as I flew majestically through the air. The bullets didn't seem to be hurting the thing at all. I kept at it, dodging and firing, moving and pelting, as the fatty fired tons and tons of huge fireballs at me from his multi-barreled pyromaniacal weapons. Spiny snotballs didn't have anything on this guy's stuff. I noticed it start to become more and more tired as I poured more rounds into his flabs.  
  
Next thing I knew, a whole squad of spinies came out of the woodwork. They started firing their fireballs at me while I tried to keep out of the way of fatty's. One tense minute later, the fatty was retaliating against the retarded spiny who accidentally pegged him in the back. Thus he solved one of my problems. Another half hour raged on, as the fatty mowed down the spiny entourage and I dealt the final blow with my duck gun. Fatty crumbled down to the ground, his skeleton puncturing through the flabby flesh. I nearly lost my lunch again.  
  
I sat against the pole, reflecting on the incredible turn of events. If those spinies hadn't come around, I'd probably have had to fight them on my own later on. I reloaded my guns and took a drink of water from my canteen, then moved on.  
  
The night dragged on as I dodged large platoons of zombies shambling toward the general direction of the airbase, the very same airbase I was going to. I was losing any hope that I would find an area unguarded, with a helicopter to boot. Luck seemed to be broken at that point. If I weren't covered in blood from recent encounters with the Bad Guys, then I would have been shot to pieces right then and there. I won't bore you with the details of my walk amongst the zombies. It was monotonous and took three days to actually reach the airbase. When I arrived, my hardest journey occurred. 


	8. Crappy Draft

Chapter Eight: The Repo(sessed) Men  
  
  
  
We finally entered the airbase after a long march. The putrid stench of sour lemons now was all over me. Walking among zombies, covered in blood, smelling of spoiled citrus, this was definitely not the way to travel. I took my first chance to get away when we passed by a small alley between the radio room and troop barracks. I didn't want a fight to erupt at that moment because I gave up my pitiful zombie act and relaxed.  
  
I walked around the corner and didn't have time to react before a large, blue, sphere flew directly into my face. I thought that that was it. I'd finally met my match. As if to mock me, the blue stuff splattered all over my body, entering my wounds, enclosing every inch. I couldn't breathe! Eventually, two or three minutes later, the stuff evaporated, and I glanced to see what damage it had caused. I was completely surprised when I saw all my wounds had closed of their own accord, leaving not a scratch on my once- aching body. I felt like a million bucks. Even my badly damaged left hand was feeling good as new.  
  
I headed into the nearest building to try and find the hangar. I never thought the place would be so damned big! I raised my trusty duck gun, and entered the main barracks. With a kick I was inside.  
  
I looked around the gigantic room, which, to my surprise, was spotless. The bunks should have been covered with gore, from my recent experiences with Point Omega. And there were no bodies in sight. Something strange was going on. My left hand began to feel really painful. I tore my glove off and stared at my birthmark. (You see, I have a birthmark on the back of my hand. I always felt weird about it. It was a semicircle inside a very detailed type of mark.)  
  
My birthmark was glowing red. It had never done this before. Ever. I replaced the glove and continued exploring the room. As I got closer to the back door, my hand started really hurting. I mean BAD. Sixth sense, maybe? Two minutes later, as suddenly as the pain began, it stopped. I opened the back door, 


End file.
